The Sequel to: The Birds
by humanillusion
Summary: The Birds. A classic. But what really happened? What are the reasons? Will we ever know? Find out in the sequel, a story about a young man who learns disturbing truths, and battles alarming situations, to reveal the truth.


Chapter 1

"Brenton Mitchellon? Brenton Mitchellon? Do you have your parent's signature for me?" "No, sorry." "Why not?" "Well…well…" A loud, obnoxious voice interrupted. "Because that loser doesn't have any!" The teacher yelled, "That's enough! Now back to your seat." This was just a typical day in Brenton's young life. He never knew his parents. He always asked, but always got no answer.

He lives with his aunt, who never revealed any account of his dad, or his mom. She was a very mysterious woman, who never spoke, and was as cold as Arctic wind. He was only seventeen, but already his life was full of unanswered questions, and a great sadness.

He was up at night, every night, on the roof, in his small, insignificant corner of the world. He would climb up the bathroom window, and onto the black, crappy shingles. He would lay there, in the dark, silent night. Silence. A sound he was familiar with. He would sit, and stare, out into the open darkness. Then, there were always those crows. The two or three crows that would sit on the electrical line, and watch, observe. Those birds, always, always there, just sitting. Although they had never actually done anything to him, Brenton hated the crows. He hated them with extreme animosity. He didn't know quite what it was about them. But it was their whole existence. The way they sat there. The way they were always there. Observing. Waiting. Watching.

Something about them. But he didn't know what. A connection, though. Something.

His mind snapped back into his present nightmare of a day. His teacher had now proceeded to teach about World War II. But he couldn't listen. His thoughts drifted to his parents. Who were they? His aunt never disclosed any information about them. Nothing. Not their name, or character, or appearance. Nothing.

Brenton was sure that his "aunt" wasn't even related by blood to them. He had never even heard of her before. He was just pushed into her life. He knew nothing about his family.

"Go now, young people, to the library. Research some information on the economy at the time of World War II," his teacher barked. He was jolted back into reality by his teacher's harsh crackle. Brenton got out of his chair, and ambled down to the library, still stuck in his thinking about his family. He walked slowly, half sleepily, down the hall, then down the stairs, then down another flight, to the dark, somewhat ominous door of the library.

He opened it, far behind his other classmates. Walking down the space between the bookshelves, he was looking for some type of historical book. He was now in the corner of the library, away from all the other students, in the silence of his own thoughts. His eyes glanced from shelf to shelf, while the smell of musty books filled his senses. He heard no one talking, no pages turning, nothing. He wondered if the other students were still even in the library. He looked up and down. Astrology? No. The Everglades? No. War mysteries? No. Suddenly his eyes stopped. Something grabbed his attention. Daniels. In the newaspaper headline. He could only make out "Daniels". Daniels. Daniels. He thought it sounded familiar. Like he knew this "Daniels" once.

He raced over and pulled out the newspaper with the name "Daniels" out. The headline read: "Daniels- page A4". He turned the pages with a sense of unjustifiable urgency. The newspaper was about to rip. It was old. He read the date, but all he could make out was "196…" Something in the 1960s. But it didn't matter. He turned more pages. He was careful, though, for the newspaper was a yellowish color. There. A4. His eyes raced down the page.

"Daniels," it read. "As of a report yesterday, the little ocean town of Bodega Bay was terrorized as a result of a strange occurrence. Sources say that the bayside village was attacked by hundreds of birds. We have no further details, but we do know by word of mouth that the birds had quite a few victims, but not all fatalities. One victim was Melanie Daniels, a successful, well-known woman from San Francisco. Questions still remain as to the reason why for the attacks, or if this whole thing is a big, ugly hoax."

Brenton started in shock. For some reason, this person he supposedly never knew had a strange, emotional tie with him. He searched his memory. Daniels. Daniels. Wait. Daniels. It was becoming clearer. Daniels. The birth certificate. He remembered.

He thought of that time he found his birth certificate, when he was much, much younger. It was in his aunt's closet. He found it, asked about it, but then his aunt quickly took it away and told him to never look at it again, and to forget about what he saw. But he didn't forget. He remembered. The line, where it said "Mother", had "Melanie Daniels" on it. He knew. There was no doubt about it. He had never thought any more about the birth certificate when after he saw it for the first time. He was very young then. But know, without a doubt, he knew. Melanie Daniels was his mom.


End file.
